The baritone voice of your Office of Secret Intelligence Handler crackled over the commlink:
“Here’s what we know: Two hours ago Listening Station 52-55ln, positioned on the very edge of the Caelus System, sent out a system-wide broadcast on all available channels. This station has been decommissioned and offline for over two decades, with only a handful of individuals even aware of its existence. The signal persisted for seventeen seconds before it was interrupted. Our best codebreakers have been on it since the moment we received it, but have so far been unable to decipher its message, if there even is one. Regardless, we need to move rapidly to secure the station and determine the origin and meaning of the signal before someone else does. We have a pilot en-route to ferry you and the other members of your team to the station, rendezvous at the attached coordinates. Good luck.
That was a few hours ago. Now you sit in the passenger bay of an inconspicuously marked Class Type B Escort shuttle, the other members of your team gathered around you as the ship drifts through the inky blackness of space, destination: Listening Station 52-55ln.
Sometimes, Mica could clobber Jorm, no matter how dear she held him. Get around, see a bit of the world! His words still rang in her ear, spoken through his crooked grin and accompanied by a datacrystal filled with old schematics and whatever music he’d fancied a few minutes ago, while he ignored her protests and physically shoved her into a shuttle.
And now she sat in the passenger compartment of a different shuttle with strangers and some even stranger folk. But she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t have a way to deal with that!
And so she dug into the blueprints and software documentation for the listening station, ignoring the unfamiliar and surely expendable people in favor of the technologies Jorm had deputized her to analyze first hand.
Cole sat closest to the pilot’s door. As current Director of OSI, he didn’t really need to be here. Yet, sitting behind a desk all day looking at paperwork got really karking boring so, here he was.
He was armed, thoroughly, watching the motley crew that was arranged for the investigation. A mix of Force Users and not, and a decent variation in fighter capability. It was adequate enough for a theortically simple mission.
It was never simple.
Mathik Krynn knew an opportunity when he saw one. The commlink chatter he intercepted had pricked his curiosity, filling his head with fantasies of all the valuable information he might dig up exploring such an old station. He could have salivated at the thought. A holocall to his contact at OSI and a handful of credits later, he’d secured his spot on the shuttle bound for Listening Station 52-55ln.
Now he was lounging in one of the seats inside the said shuttle, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other fished up a handful of dried Jogan rinds from a bag propped on his stomach. He popped them one by one into his mouth as he stretched his legs out in front of him, ankles crossed, probably taking up too much leg room to be considered polite. Not that he gave such things all that much thought. He was far more interested in his would-be companions. He looked at each one in turn; the lass pouring over blueprints, the OSI fellow, the Aleena, quite an interesting trio. Then there was the giant lady dressed in black. That one he avoided on purpose. He had sensed her presence in the Force well before he’d seen her, the dark side rolling off of her in waves to the point where he had had to actively block her out.
His eyes met the OSI fellow’s gaze, serving him his best, most charming grin.
Snaz was getting far too old for this. Yes, he had requested to see more of the galaxy. Yes, he was owed a favour, but he was an old man now. For what time he had remaining in this wide ol’ universe, he just wanted to experience it with a smile on his face, a song in his heart, and a joke on his lips.
Was that too much to ask for?
For example, how do Jedi lose weight? Light-sabers.
He grinned to himself. It wasn’t his best one, but he’ll try to remember that one for later, assuming they all weren’t about to be filled full of blaster holes. Anders had requested ordered him to come along and keep an eye on the newly minted OSI director. Cole Farrow seemed simple enough. He was moody, grumpy, all business, no fun. It was amazing he and Anders didn’t get along like a house on fire.
The Kiffar woman seemed to be musing over something, or someone quite angrily, pulling quite amusing facial expressions in the process.
The Duros. It was a good thing Snaz was about the size of a backpack, otherwise stretching those legs would have been considerably rude. As such, Snaz was unobstructed.
Then there was the designated Sith for this misadventure, Miss chaos incarnate herself. What Anders was doing associating himself with someone who’s presence in the Force felt like a black hole trying to swallow you whole was beyond his understanding. Kids these days. Back in his day, Sith were considered the enemy. Then again, so were the Jedi at a time too. There were always so many enemies and so few friends. That was why they were so valuable.
Oh, well. If they were to be a motley crew for this adventure, some team bonding was in order, and what better way than laughter?
Snaz sat up and cleared his throat. “You all ever hear about What Star Destroyers wear to a wedding? Bow TIES.”
There was a quiet, unbroken hiss as Aphotis analyzed the fresh fears from behind her pitch-dark face mask. It appeared that there were quite a number of new faces and flavors. The Sith had not bothered to study their profiles beforehand, as one would have arrived unfashionably late. She had tilted her head without noticing and her tail flicked from one end to the other.
The Witch was expecting an amalgamation of species and she was not left disappointed. Her spindly, clawed hand tensed up as the urge to absorb the anxieties around her boiled up within her chest. The Garden of Trepidations was rapacious. The unexpected had brought her here. Mysteries such as these had a way of escalating. The fibers of her being yearned for a trial that would expose each and everyone’s potential.
Pain would be such a welcome distraction. Recent events had weighed heavy on her shoulders. It made the airsupply on her back practically devoid of avoirdupois. Something stirred within the amulet, its crimson crystal pulsating with electric blue. A cold wave followed each beat, like the flickering of a flame.
A pressure built up within her skull as the miniature-sized Aleena caused the wrong kind of pain with his joke.
‘Insecurities. Pathetic.’
Mica blinked slowly and cinched her datapad tighter as the Aleena attempted levity. She quickly calculated the odds of the tall, gangly monster Jorm spoke so fondly of devouring the little reptilian right away, and if she was in Aphotis’ path.
Unhappy with the answers, she got up and busied herself on a locker of emergency supplies.
Better safe than sorry, she mused while a medikit and a rebreather wandered into her backpack and the tools therein got reorganized by likelyhood of need. A second rebreather wandered into her belt pouch.
Satisfied with her adapted loadout, Mica relocated once more, avoiding both the direct path between Alaisy and Snaz as well as being the first on the door when they’d reach their destination.
Mat nodded to himself. A strange lot indeed.
He reckoned that that Aleena, ancient though he may be, would be a hoot at a party. Heading into potential danger, though, Mat wasn’t rightly sure what the diminutive fella brought to the table. Wasn’t even of a suitable size to serve as a meat shield. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the thought, which he then realized might be mistaken for a reaction to that…joke?
He stuffed the last Jogan rinds into his mouth, munching loudly as he wiped his hands on his coat.
Cole blinked twice at the joke. Well. This was going to be interesting. Puns weren’t really his thing but Sofila would probably find that funny.
noted.
Though the silence was painfully overbearing. Even with ignoring the oddly wide grin Mat had flashed his way.
“Well, we may know who the distraction is should we need one.”
Tough crowd.
Snaz was used to it. Though, at least the Duros gave him a light chuckle. Even Aphotis hissed through her mask. Any reaction was a good reaction. There was some hope for this team yet.
Snaz carefully, and slowly, lowered his head ever so slightly.
“If terrible jokes could kill, I’d be in the history books by now,” he allowed himself a small laugh. “The legends of Snaz the Ribtickler would spread from planet to planet across the cosmos. But, hey, that ain’t how life works. So how about introductions instead? I’m Snaz. You’re Cole Farrow. Seen you before talking to Anders. Though, I’m unfamiliar with everyone else?”
He gestured to Aphotis, Mica, and Mathik.
The Kiffar gritted her teeth. Oh frakk, now they’re getting social. And this tub has no escape pod.
She realized that introducing herself last would probably make her the topic, and that her only way out was through.
“Mica Vres,” she answered in a clipped fashion, “tech specialist on loan from Chyron.”
Choosing between the other two, her gaze fell upon Mathik and she raised an eyebrow.
“Heya,” said Mat. He was quite at ease with crowds but he didn’t exactly have much to share. The less he said around the OSI operative, the better. So he offered another nod along with his trademark grin, making sure to meet their gaze one by one as he spoke. Except for the giant lady. He didn’t so much as glance her way. “Name’s Mathik Krynn. Friends call me Mat. You could say I’m a, huh, security specialist.”
The tall Sith bided her time until some of their eyes were on her, so she could feel their gaze, even a glimpse would do.
“Aphotis,” her name was uttered slow, low-pitched and breathy, yet distinctly feminine and sultry through the modulation of her mask.
Any who gazed at her would see their assumed fears dance in the reflections of her second skin, she already had a good guess at what theirs were. There was no need to explain her role in this expedition.
Her domed visor stayed locked on the Aleena, his optimism festering into mental images of violence. The smooth movements of her tail warped into sharp twitches and convulsions.
Cole had read all the files. He cared little to interact with someone who was as liable to stab them all in the back as the enemy was, from what he’d heard. Or what paranoid folks had assumed at least. He kept his gaze off of her either way, glancing toward the door that withheld the pilot.
It wouldn’t be long now.
As each syllable was uttered, the Duros found solace only in the weight of the lightsaber concealed within his coat. His eyes flitted to this Aphotis and, despite that meager split second stare, echoes of his own death danced on the edge of his psyche.
E chu ta, he groaned under his breath, too low for anyone to hear from where they sat.
The matte grey steel door separating the cockpit from the passenger bay slid open with a hiss, cutting through the uncomfortable tension in the air. The pilot was a Human man with a tight brown crew cut and wore the generic attire of a commercial pilot, though it lacked any specific logos or branding. He turned slightly in his chair and called back to the squad behind him.
“Coming up on the target now. Should be getting a good visual in a few moments.” Through the front viewport the slowly twisting listening station twinkled in the starlight, growing in size as the transport continued its approach. A series of massive radar dishes protruded from one side, nearly as large as the station itself. On the opposite side, docked into one of the two available docking bays, was a light freighter that had seen better days. Its hull was heavily marred with blaster scorching and appeared to have been repaired with mismatching parts several times over. “Looks like someone’s home.”
“Assume hostile, there’s no sigil. Pirates are likely.” Cole stated, looking over the freighter. He gave no visible reaction otherwise, looking back into the seated area.
“We’ll see if they’ll co-operate.”
Mica wasn’t about to go in blind if she could help it and employed her scanner. Just a few short scan cycles later, a rather sharp picture began to materialize.
“I pick up nine lifeforms deeper inzo the station,” she shared with the team, professionalism and the comfort of tech work lending confidence to her voice, “none on the dock or that ship. The scan might’ve missed droids, though.”
She looked up from the device and at Cole. “No comm traffic in either direction.”
Snaz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His back ached from the journey. Force be damned, those seats were uncomfortable!
Then again, they weren’t exactly designed for someone of his limited stature.
“In my personal experience, co-operation isn’t high on tbe list of priorities when it comes to pirates,” Snaz placed a hand under his chin. “However, this galaxy is ruled by money, and a fistful of credits goes a long way. Perhaps they can be persuaded?”
“Depends on the band,” Mica commented while homing in on minute details on her screen, “some are built around family units and some others are run like militaries. And a ship like that patchwork freighter speaks to either desperation or attachment.”
“Keep your credits and your pitiful pride. Perhaps consider speaking once you have realised they are not trying to blast you first. Better yet, use the advantage Mica here just gave us to make the first move.”
Her lip twitched behind the nosecup as the chatter about diplomacy grated at the Sith. She pressed down on her knees and rose up, keeping her head down to avoid the ceiling.
“Securing the station and defining the origin of the signal is our goal here. The preservation of invasive lifeforms is insignificant, this is a listening station for goodness sake, not a zoo. Skin them, gut them, nail them to the walls and leave one coward alive. And make sure you have something to protect you from the vacuum of space, I do not want to deal with more ‘chats’.”
Snaz’s eyes snapped wide open. Of course, he had offended the tall, gangly, amalgamation of a Sith. Her bloodlust radiated through the Force, whether that was her own or simply the effect of the Dark Side was unclear. Actually, it was probably both. The Dark Side was a choice just like anything else in life.
“I might be old, but I’m not senile. I know what we’re here to do,” Snaz’s responded cooly, clasping his tiny hands together, narrowing his eyes. He attempted to keep the rapid thumping of his heart under control. He’d be lying if he said this woman didn’t terrify him. Hell, he’d be concerned for the people who weren’t scared of her.
Yet, he was about… fifty years her senior, at a guess? Hard to tell through the latex.
“You don’t always have to be violent to get what you want, you know that, right? But hey, what do I know? You’ve made it this far doing you,” Snaz shrugged.
The dark side placed its hand on her shoulder. A cold chill ran down and slowed down her heart. A melancholic whisper reminding the Sith that the Aleena had indeed had its time and that his story was already written. The fusion of the little black haired girl and the great tree Osasdii made Snaz’s existence look even more futile. Aphotis knew death intimately and there was nothing to argue here.
Electric-blue, dimmed by the faceshield, stared for a moment longer, until it no longer saw the Aleena at all.
Hiss
The Duros shook his head then pushed to his feet, his sigh long drawn as he wiped his coat, the exasperation loud enough for the others to hear.
“You two go ahead. Skin them, hug them, don’t matter to me so long as you distract them. If Mica here follows my lead, I can sneak her into the server room. Doesn’t matter how many there are if we go unseen.”
“Honestly, I’m a subscriber to her school of stealth. My gear rattles to much,” the Kiffar objected while her hands dug out another piece of equipment.
“But I advise taking as many as possible alive. Unless they’re a tight-knit family, their knowledge will be partitioned among them, and there’s no guarantee that the most knowledgeable won’t also be a brave corpse,” she risked objecting to the Sith with cold, utilitarian pragmatism.
“Jammer’s ready when you are.”
Mat offered a nonchalant shrug.
“Suit yourself then. I can get in there alone.”
“This is our station, not a sadist’s art museum. Keep it clean, whatever you do with them.” Cole stated. “Alive is preferable until we have more information.”
He was uncomfortable, but they needed this to not end up with the squad fighting itself. He walked past the group toward the exit door, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Likewise, we should stick as a group until we know whats going on.”
“We’ll see,” mused Mat, grin ever present on his lipless blue face.
Cole met his eye for a moment. The man betrayed little to no emotion, expression carefully metered.
“We have comms. If you end up getting hit by one of us because you didnt bother to use it, keep that to yourself. Agreed?”
Mat chuckled, “Sure thing.”
He flashed his own comlink device.
“I’ll be in touch if need be, don’t you worry, bossman.” That last word had a mocking edge to it.
Cole opted to ignore the childishness, not even dignifying it with an eyeroll.
“Move out.”
The tall Sith clambered out first, more than ready to raise herself to her full height.
The Duros grabbed his helmet from the seat next to his, hooked it so it dangled off his hip, where it would be easy to access should it be needed for environmental protection. A snap of his fingers and a probe droid uncoiled and climbed out from inside the helm, skittering up his back to perch itself on his left shoulder.
He waited for the others to disembark. Now that he was done ruffling the OSI operative’s feathers, he figured he’d stick with them for now. No sense slinking off on his own until he had an inkling of what he was after. That Mica girl might just feed him that information if he waited long enough.
Moving much slower than the rest of them, because of course he was, was Snaz. He understood the urgency, but did they have to shoot off like a proton torpedo?
If only Draca were around. He always let Snaz cling to his back whenever they travelled together. He didn’t need his doctorate to know that no-one else here was going to be as hospitable.
Figures.
He wondered briefly who he should accompany most. Who should be the subject of his next joke routine?
“Comm chatter! They noticed us,” Mica called out.
“They’re locking down and focusing on some power unit. They also suspect being overheard… let me see about that.”
Thick grey durasteel walls surround you on all sides. A heavy layer of grime has accumulated on the floor over the years, and broken bits of equipment have gathered in the corners of this room. Two heavy airlocks sit on the wall behind, one leading to your own ship, the other leading to the suspicious freighter already docked to the station. Along the left wall, old and dusty space suits hang on racks; this docking bay also seems to have doubled as a readyroom. At the far end, a few supply crates are stacked up against the wall. Halfway down the right wall sits a small doorway that leads further into the station. As you step through the airlock into the room, that hatch slams closed.
You hear a number of overlapping conversations through the advanced scanner: “Pull that crate over and stack another one on top!” “Help me unhook this-” **Sounds of electricity sparking-* “ Good, done. If they get in here blast this karkin’ thing to the stars!” “Here, grab one of these Taldryan blasters, much better quality than our trash.”*
“How many explosives do we have?” Cole asked, calmly as he looked at the door. If they were setting up blocks and traps…
“I have a thermal detonator, a laser trip mine and a dioxis grenade on me.”
“I can crawl into the air vents?” Snaz offered as a joke.
A joke.
Aphotis turned her head towards the Aleena, tilting it as her tail danced from side to side.
Mica rerouted the comm trafficfrom the speaker into the personal comlinks. “Channel Nine if you want to keep listening,” she announced and unholstered a plasma torch.
“Unless somebody offers up a probe droid, sure, Snaz. Eyes on is good.*
“I’ll do you one better,” said the Duros as he stepped past them towards the hatch. He held his hand out, fingers and palm pressed to the cold, greasy durasteel surface.
Closing his eyes, he reached out with the Force. The depthless terrors that swirled about Aphotis like roiling storm clouds rushed him from behind, but he pushed them back, banishing them from his mind. He focused on the hatch, on the electric network that powered its systems. He followed the current upstream until he found what it was he searched for. He breathed slowly, the stale air of the docking bay wafting into his nostrils. He felt out the hatch’s circuit board, its transistors and diodes and relays, uncovering pathways and key pressure points. He worked the Force as one would a hydrospanner, prodding, applying pressure, coercing the systems to work against their programming.
His grin grew. Success.
A mechanical whirr, a clunking sound, and the hatch slid open part of the way, first revealing a sliver of light beyond, then stacks of crates. It ground to a halt, the crates blocking its mechanisms. Mat took a step back, then another, now holding both hands out before him. He redoubled his efforts, shifting focus from the circuit board to the hatch proper. Metal and Duros groaned in unison until finally the crates buckled and fell away.
The hatch door slid open.
“Nice,” Snaz gave a nod of approval.
Doors and corners!
The warning had been etched into her brain through every step of her training and only ingrained deeper through experience. So Mica did the sensible thing and got into cover as quickly as her slender legs would carry her.
Cole had stepped to the side of the doorway, blaster resting in a almost-readied position.
Snaz was way past the point of running in his advanced age. Instead of taking cover, he took a seat on the durasteel floor and closed his eyes, centering himself in the Force.
Mat took shelter on the other side of the hatch opposite from Cole. He slipped the double-barelled blaster from its holster, held it up at the ready.
Aphotis stepped forward, grabbed Snaz by the scruff and tossed him aside.
A deep crimson glow crept over her shiny black second skin. Her blood boiled and her clawed hands were clenched as she wrapped the dark side around her like a shroud.
Darkness overcame his senses. When he connected to the Force, he only felt the malevolence, the ire, the bloodlust of the woman that towered over him like a Coruscant skyscraper.
He felt the warning from the Force, her intention as clear to him now as a rising sun. He didn’t run. Why would he? Where exactly was he going to go? Instead, when Aphotis launched him with all her inhuman strength, and as the wind wooshed past his scaley, wrinkly face, he braced himself for impact.
Snaz crashed into some of the nearby crates. His limp body dropped to the floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his tongue dangled out of his mouth.
Cole looked over as the crash occured, swearing under his breath.
“You really couldn’t restrain yourself from attacking a team mate for 5 karking minutes?” He asked Aphotis, annoyed more than anything.
“Dank farrik, they blew the hatch clean open!”
A flurry of blaster bolts crash into the wall behind you. This room opens up into a much wider space than the last. Multiple stacks of crates are spread out across the room, with some appearing to be utilized as tables and chairs. This was likely the Mess and Receation center of the station, though whatever furniture may have been here before is smashed to pieces and piled with the rest of the trash. Two doorways, both closed, on perpendicular walls lead in different directions. A number of pirates are spread out around the room, using the various stacks of crates for cover.
Mica tapped away on the scanner’s touchscreen, searching for more details, but found it frozen after a few seconds.
“Silicate schutta!”
Clamping down on the buttons forcing a reboot, she slid her other hand into another pocket and switched on the jammer.
“Comms disrupted!”
Mat blocked out the noise, turning his focus to the so-called pirates in the next chamber. He could sense them in the Force, pinpointing their location without taking so much as peek.
He didn’t move. He wasn’t going to be the first one through. In fact, he almost wished the Sith had had the presence of mind to toss the Aleena inside. That, at least, would have been useful.
There was no time to check on Snaz as blaster bolts flooded through the doorway. None struck anyone yet.
Cole peered around the corner, the omnisight picking up the origin point of the furthest pirate. They kept ducking in and out of cover, Cole’s first shot flying over their head.
The second one struck true. Cole wasnt sure where, but from the shift of the crate the karker was hiding behind hed definitely hit.
And then dipped behind cover as more shots followed.
Mat couldn’t see the pirate hiding behind a stack of crates but he knew exactly where they were, their emotions like a beacon in the Force. He used Cole’s attack as cover, stepping out into the open to get a proper view of the room. With a swipe of his free hand he shoved the crates, sending the stack crumbling down, burying the pirate. A few hollow thuds followed by a pain-filled grunt, barely audible over the blaster fire. They were pinned. Someone would have to dig him out.
Good, thought Mat as he slunk back into cover on his side of the hatch. Just gotta make sure we’re the ones digging him out. Then mister OSI can interrogate him.
With a distinct clack Aphotis stepped into the room. Her claw pulled out a cylindrical device from her Envoy pouch and rolled it over the length of her tail.
Crack-hum, a long lash of plasma sprung to life with a thundering roar.
“Thank you for making this easy, Duros,” her voice darkened.
The tail flicked the grenade with non-chalance.
Hiss
A cloud of gas sprayed out of the explosive. The witch lifted up Tenderlash and cracked it toward the crates. The lightwhip burned straight through the containers and the person underneath alike.
“Oh,” croaked Mat.
A cloud of toxic dioxis gas spread out around the room rapidly, curling up into the faces of the pirates. One pirate anticipated the explosion, diving out of the way and covering his nose and mouth with his arm; the remaining two were not so lucky. They both dropped their blasters as the air evacuated their lungs, clawing at their throats and gasping, desperately, for relief. The already injured of the two fell prone, rolling on the floor in distress.
Despite the chaos occurring around him, Snaz remained prone, eyes closed, tongue now dry, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.
“BOSS! LET ME IN!” The sole standing pirate turned and slammed on the hatch behind him with the butt of his blaster pistol. True fear was now creeping into his mind. He looked back over his shoulder and his eyes fell on his compatriot, whose body had just been cleaved in two, each half still smoking from the lightsaber strike. His gaze rose onto the visage of Aphotis, blacking and shining and writhing with the Dark Side. “Kark this!” He unhooked a thermal detonator from his belt, clicked the activator, and hurled it with all his might at the bogey-woman across the room.
Mat sensed the pirate panic.Then, a warning in the Force.
A premonition.
He saw the Thermal Detonator fly through the air even before the pirate wound up for the throw.
The Duros shot out of cover into the room, feet carried by the Force, mind honing through plumes of dioxis gas on the explosive device as it left the pirate’s fingers. It soared halfway to Aphotis before invisible fingers clamped down around it, stopping it mid flight.
It spun in place for a heartbeat.
Mat should have deflected it. He should have sent it where it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Instead, he sent it right back at the man.
Tendrils of gas licked at his boots, forcing him back out through the hatch into cover before he could witness the detonation.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the Sith’s suffocating presence had influenced him.
The pirate’s eyes went wide in horror as the thermal detonator paused in mid-air and redirected back toward him. Unable to get out of the way in time, the explosion blew him off his feet and into the nearby stack of heavy crates. He crashed to the floor facedown and laid motionless for a few beats, smoke rising from his singed clothes. Then he stirred, pushing himself up and reaching desperately for his blaster pistol.
Cole peered around the edge of thr corner again, breathing slowly, focussed down the omnisight scope.
The heat signature shifted.
He fired twice toward where the pirate would expose himself. Having breathed in the dioxis, there was little point trying to preserve his life.
“Keep one of them alive.” The statement was communicated over the comms as well as spoken, Cole’s voice cold and firm.
The screen popped back into life and Mica’s last-run programs reinitialized and with them, the hooks she had in the uninvited guests’ comlinks.
“Noise bomb,” she announced and ran her script. Deafening electronic screeching erupted from all corners of the other room, nearly drowning out pained screams and curses.
“Make it count!” Taking her own advice, she leaned around the corner and fired her Stun Gun at the closest flicker of movement that wasn’t an otherworldly terror with killer curves - frakk you, Jorm - before ducking back.
The tall Sith peered around the room, not seeing a blasted thing past the many crates, gas cloud and debris.
As his companions focused on the pirates and the Aleena slept on—if he was even alive—the Duros turned his attention to what came next. They would have to get through that door at the back of the room, the one the pirate had been banging on before throwing the explosive. He’d heard him call after his boss. Cole would no doubt want a word with the fellow. After testing his patience back on the shuttle, Mat felt owed him that much.
So he focused on the door the same way he had on the first hatch. With a hand stretched palm out, he projected his consciousness across the room to the door, found the electric network, then the circuit board. This time, though, he had to be careful. He didn’t want to set a new wave of enemies loose on his unsuspecting companions.
He had to be subtle about it, he had to avoid any changes that would alert those hidden behind it. Where he had used relays to activate the hatch’s motor functions the first time around, this time he diverted electricity away from the locking mechanism. This caused the lock to disengage as he suspected, a common security measure in case of power outages. The door fell limp, ready to be pushed aside at the opportune moment. Best of all, those on the other side were none the wiser. They wouldn’t expect it and only close inspection by a trained mechanic would reveal something was amiss.
It took a moment of peering behind crates to find one. But there he was, incapacitated. Aphotis balled her fist and punched him in the temple. There was nothing he could do about it.
Her long slick, black tail coiled around his neck and dragged him over the floor behind her.
“Here, I found this. Enjoy.”
The tail rose up with the man still attached, slamming him down in front of Cole.
Mat lay in wait, blaster at the ready, waiting to see where the pieces fell.
The pirate slowly pulled himself to his feet, one hand gripping the edge of the crate so hard his fingers dug into it, the other loosely holding his blaster pistol, hanging at his side. Heavy burns on the exposed skin on his face, neck, and arms resisted his movement, making every action slow and pained. He tried to shake the haze from the blast and focus on his target, but when he locked on the Witch, a gargled scream burst out and echoed off the durasteel walls.
To his eyes, the darkness trapped within Aphotis had shed its skin. A shifting, writhing shadow dominated the space, formless yet also distinctly humanoid in its shape. The overheard fluorescents dimmed as it drew the light into itself. It had no face, no eyes, yet he knew it was looking right at him. Shaking with fear, he brought the blaster pistol up and fired two bolts at the center of the shadow. The shots were effortlessly absorbed by the Witch’s active shield, but to the pirate, a gaping maw opened within the darkness and swallowed the light as it arrived. Another scream, this time caught in his throat.
Seeing an opening, Mat took a shot but the only thing that died was a bit of his pride.
Mica tried her luck next, but to her disbelief, she did not hit the apparently shock-static intruder either. As she ducked back into cover, she could have sworn the man had literally oscillated out of her shot’s path, shaken by Aphotis’ presence. Honestly, fair.
Aphotis was puzzled by the man’s sudden moves and decided to try and take a closer look. Her tail lashed out, but it too missed, somehow.
A red flash blared over the curl of Aphotis’ tail.
It struck the man in the torso, finally putting him down.
Mica saw the shot, heard the sizzle and thump of it striking home.
One room clear, the tech thought to herself and cancelled the noise bombs. Digging through the medkit she had pilfered earlier, she dug out something that looked like a strong stimulant - only slightly expired, even - and jammed the needle into Snaz’ lolling tongue.
“Come on, Snooze, there’s still work to do!”
His eyes snapped open, pupils dilated, snarling and frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal. He grabbed Mica by the scuff of her shirt, and leaned in.
“BOO!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
After a moment, he began chuckling to himself, realising the sudden sharp pain in his tongue from the needle as he slurred;
“Thorry, thorry. Could'n resisht. So, whad I mish?”
Cole glanced sideways towards Snaz, raising an eyebrow for a moment before deciding to disregard the situation.
The pirate was unconcious. Wasting a stim was not worth it.
Cole kicked the man in the stomach.
The pirate bolted awake with a cough and immediately devolved into a fit of wheezing, his throat and lungs still recovering from the dioxis gas. Rolling on the floor in pain, he bumped into Cole’s legs, who promptly kicked him over onto his back. The pirate stopped coughing abruptly and stared up at the OSI Director, eyes wide in fear and nervously searching around the room for any relief, one hand still gripping his raw throat.
“W-wh-who are you gu-guys?” He barely choked out in Galactic Basic.
“What group are you with?” Cole asked, disregarding thr pirates question. He spoke slowly, looking down at the man with his own blaster still held at ready.
“N-no group. Just us…” The pirate propped himself up onto his elbow, giving him a slightly better view around the room, and he noticed his bisected ally a few feet away. He was unable to contain an involuntary yelp at the sight. “Frackin’ hell man, you killed Donny..” Tears began to well in the corners of his eyes, and he tried to shake them off.
“We didn’t st-steal no crates, we just found this place, honest. You don’t gotta kill me.”
“Congratulations, you won an all paid expense trip to perhaps the most violent crew possible that could have been sent here, and that’s before I include tall, dark, and impulsive over there,” Snaz pointed at Aphotis.
“He’s overselling it, but you’re boned anyway,” Mica chipped in and worked her magic with the scanner. One after the other, the remaining pirates’ commlinks got re-tapped and linked into the listen-only channel 9, which she promptly tuned into with her earbud.
“Explain how you found this station.” Cole spoke slowly, watching them carefully. A lone group of pirates. There was definitely more to this than met the eye.
“The Boss, he brought us here…” The pirate pointed back toward the hatch his now-deceased compatriot had banged on. “Said he found it doing runs. But these crates were already here! I swear.”
“Why the crates?” Snaz narrowed his eyes on the pirate. “Why are they so important?”
”Whats going on out there? Its too quiet. Arno, go check it out!”
“Me, boss? Really?”
“Here, take this detonator. Toss it through the door and then close it.”
“But what if we got guys still alive in there.”
“Did I stutter?”
Mica tapped her earbud. “Incoming. Detonator through the door’s the game plan.”
She raised her stun gun again and took aim preemptively while sliding back into the cover of the dock’s doorway.
Cole grabbed the pirate by his collar, dragging him backwards back around the corner.
“What’s your name?”
“Th-that’s why ya’ll are here, right? ‘Cause someone stole those crates?” The pirate’s eyes shifted over to the Aleena who addressed him. “We just found 'em, I sw-” His sentence was cut off as Cole dragged him around the corner. “My name’s Dail.” He replied nervously.
“Ok, Dail.” Cole took a slight step back. “What happened when you arrived here?”
Sure enough, on cue, the door opened and in rolled a small spherical device. Thanks to the advanced warning, Snaz barely gave it a cursory glance before summoning his power with the Force and tossing it back in the direction from whence it came.
“Catch,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, we just got done with a job - b- but it wasn’t no Taldryan ship, just a little freighter!” Dail replied, holding his hands up preemptively in defense, “Boss said he knew a spot to stash the stuff, and we came here.” He pushed himself up further, now sitting up against the durasteel wall. “I’m new, man, I swear. I ain’t never been here.”
“`As the hatch slammed closed, the Thermal Detonator zipped through the narrow gap and back into the Operations room. A muffled explosion could be heard through the wall of the station, but was much more clearly broadcast on the hacked comms.
“Detonator out!” “What th-” EXPLOSION Overlapping profanities “Frack, Arno’s down!” “Boss, what are we gonna do? That’s the only way out!” “Shut up! Let me think…” “Get back behind cover! What are you doing?” Another hatch door slams”`
Cole was quiet for a few moments, mulling over the information.
“When did you arrive?”
“We got here ‘bout half a day ago or so, been kinda just hangin’ out here since then.” The pirate replied nervously, looking over his shoulder through the doorway before lowering his voice to almost a whisper. “Are ya’ll just gonna kill me anyway? You d-don’t gotta do that. I heard my Boss talking about somethin’, might interest you. B-but you gotta give me your word you won’t kill me.”
“Comply and we’ll see.” Cole stated. “So, your boss?”
His word was worth nothing to this man, and he wasn’t keen to make a false promise. He would, but… Rather not.
“They’re getting nervous,” Mica reported, “and their boss is thinking something up. They apparently also boxed themselves in. I suggest we don’t let these guys finish thinking!”
“We-well I heard him talkin’ to Arno earlier about some place.” Dail shifted uncomfortably against the wall, “Said there was a new spot where pirates are setting up shop,” He scanned around nervously, “in the system. Said if we kept up the good work he’d take him there. Don’t think he meant to bring the rest of us. Just a couple of the close ones.”
Aphotis despised wasting the momentum, her claw clenching as she inspected the hatch. Cole had his toy to play with and soon Snaz would likely crack a terrible joke again. There was an internal timer running.
‘Five, four, three, two, one… Time to move.’
Any longer would be irresponsible. The Sith agreed with Mica and no doubt the Duros was ready to move on as well, not that she cared. A decision was made. It was going to be brute force.
The symbiotic skin around her body tightened, perfectly in tandem with the movement of her muscles. The Witch willed the dark side to aid her with pure thoughts of malice. Energy like sweet syrup seeped into her from the endless wells of despair. She could make a Wookiee beg for mercy, but it was not enough. Was the Force being reluctant?
Her tail flicked open a cylinder on her high-waist belt and pulled out a syringe filled with swirling emerald smoke. Then she injected the vial into her facemask. Ancient Osasdii chants transformed the magick inside, turning it electric-blue before dissipating entirely.
Hiss
The initial shot was as if she was hit in the stomach by a battering ram. But then it felt good. A tingling warmth flowed from her lips down into her arms. A modulated, sinister laugh built up slowly. This was the product of her time in that dreaded swamp, the encounter with that hideous Shadow. Pure power, bottled up and even the dark side itself was merciless to stop it.
She placed her claws on the hinges.
Cling, Clank!
Durasteel snapped like twigs. She pulled the metal from its frame with the strength of a Confederacy Seismic Tank.
There she saw them, cowering, surprised and afraid. Through the ecstasy of power she could still taste the prickle of their fears on her tongue.
With little regard to their lives, she sent the hatch careening their way.
Yeah, no shit Jorm likes her, Mica shook her head and flicked a switch inside her collar. Her skin erupted into goosebumps and a slight tinge of ozone flavoured the air she breathed as her plasma shield enveloped her, ready to save her skin if needed.
Her stunner raised once more she peeked around the corner, found a panicked face in the distance and fired. But in the oncoming rush of adrenaline, her wrist bucked and sent the shot astray… right towards the little Aleena.
Great.
Cole internally sighed. “Did any of you look inside these crates you didnt steal?”
“Just a couple of ‘em…” Dail looked around nervously again and gulped, hearing the sporadic bursts of action in the next room. “There was some really fancy lookin’ wires and such, real shiny. In the next room there’s a bunch of crates that say ‘Taldryan’ on the side, seem pretty important.” He motioned to the blaster that was confiscated from him. “That fancy pistol was in one of them crates. Looked like a military shipment or something.”
“And they were just already here?” Cole raised an eyebrow, doubtful but honestly that kind of job was definitely above this guy’s paygrade.
“Is your boss the kind of person to talk, Dail?”
“N-not to folks like ya’ll, he won’t.” The pirate replied, pulling at the collar of his coat. He was still recovering from the dioxis gas and as his adrenaline was starting to fade, the pain in his throat returned. “Look, I mean, ya’ll are just gonna kill him, right? So I’ll just tell you: the Boss and some of the other guys hit a military transport a few weeks back, and they stashed a bunch of stuff here for themselves before they went to wherever that new spot is. But I wasn’t with ‘em then, I just heard 'em talking about it. Saying that it was easy pickin’s now.”
Snaz had lived long enough, been through too much conflict to know that huddling together was sometimes the worst possible option. He still remembered the voices of the Clones, so disciplined as they turned their blasters against Snaz and his Master. He still recalled the stench of tibanna gas as she pushed him out of the way. The years had not been kind, and they had only made the memories more vivid. Yet, they brought with them and air of wisdom.
With one outstretched hand, Snaz coiled his power into his palm, the Light Side given form in the bright orb that manifested. He then threw it like a flash grenade into the group of pirates.
There was no quip, no joke. Just pure determination.
With the last pirate in the room dead, Mat had turned his attention to a nearby dataport. He hooked it up to his computerized bracer and set about working, tapping command strings, running macros, slicing his way through the station’s secure database. OSI security was solid, in fact, it would keep your average slicers out, but Mat reckoned he was better than most.
First target : schematics of the station. Downloading the full layout of the station would quell his curiosity, but more importantly, he might discover something interesting tidbits. Sure enough, he did jus that.
Interesting, he thought. There was an emergency lock placed on the airlock which connected to the pirate’s ship. Either these pirates were paranoid, or there was something of particular value on that ship. Most interesting.
He continued combing the database, listening to Cole’s interrogation as he worked, the back and forth between the OSI director and his prisoner perking his curiosity. When the pirate mentioned that the crates and been there before, and Snaz asking after them, it gave Mat an idea. Satisfied with his previous finds, he turned his attentions to the docking bay records. The information was encrypted but that only delayed him for a second or so while he ran it through decryption.
His brow perked up when he read the information.
Over the past month of so, the pirate ship had made regular visits to the station. The only other ship on record was a maintenance vessel and that went back almost 8 years.
He relayed the information concerning the ship’s comings and goings to Cole. With some luck, it would help with the interrogation. It could either confirm or debunk the prisoner’s tale, but that wasn’t Mat’s job to figure out.
His interest lay elsewhere. On the pirate ship and the potential cargo hidden inside. That information, he kept to himself for now.
A deep, gravely voice with a tone of authority called out from the Operations room:
“Listen here. We got the means to blow this station to itty little bits. Unless ya’ll want to be amongst those itty little bits, why don’t you turn around and scurry back to your ship. This is your only warning.”
Mica gave her scanner a glance and adjusted some settings.
“If he’s not banthashitting us, all the detonators are analog. Wire or timer,” she whispered over the group’s comm net.
“And there’s an iffy power unit inside, could plan on an overload.”
“Would there be a way to activate the detonation?” Cole asked, considering the options. A lot of stolen goods were on the station, from this group and another if their prisoner was to be believed.
“Depending on how much we care about item retrieval we could deal with our pirate problem with their own trap. Not that theyre likely to kill themselves to kill us.”
He was quiet and then sighed.
“Unless theyre stupid. Either way we dont want pirates hanging around, so we either push, cut off any escape theyre trying to make or we back up and remotely detonate the station to kill them and remove this hideout for anyone else.”
“H-he ain’t one to surrender, if that’s what you mean.” Dail interjected. “They got a whole crate of thermal detonators in there, plus the janky power supply they rigged up. He can definitely blow this place if we wants.”
“So we’re working with stupid. Wonderful.”
Cole pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment.
“Unless they have an escape?”
The tall Sith stepped toward the next room with the short, sharp sound of heeled boots clicking and clacking. Through the staccato she could hear a low pulsating thumping in her ears. A distinct aura of dread was seeping from the side of the room. An invisible hand drew her to it, but electric-blue kept watch through the periphery of her blackened visor.
A tingle crawled over her spine as a threesome of pirates seemed to be stumbling behind limited cover. They panicked, but pointed their weapons in various directions.
“Those durasteel toys are excellent conductors, allow me to demonstrate!” Her voice was mischievous and further unsettled the raider’s jittery grips on their firearms.
Aphotis raised her clawed hands and let cerulean energy dance over her arms. She could feel the heat in her fingertips while low waves followed a recognisable high pitch as pure dark side vigor sprung from the metal nails. A violet bolt shot towards the pirate in the center. Primal power crashed into his body with full force, flashing and leaping towards his two mates. Sparks of electricity crawled over armor, funnelling toward the cluster of thermal detonators on the poor sod’s belt.
The Witch’s tail twitched with wicked amusement each time one of the explosives detonated. A smirk crept over her face as she witnessed the fireworks.
With all eyes squarely on the pirates and the task at hand, Mat took the opportunity to slip away. He’d done his part so far. They’d seen him working on the dataport, relaying information. They had no more reasons to pay attention to him and so, he simply stepped away, footsteps soft, stance unassuming, giving no impression that he was sneaking about. He passed them by as he retreated to the docking bay and the airlock that led to the pirate ship.
The emergency lock would be controlled from the command room where the pirate captain was holed up, but the Duros had a few tricks up his sleeves, one of which he’d used multiple times already on this mission. One that had worked to his advantage. Indeed. unlocking the door to that command room had ensured there wouldn’t be any undue pauses, no time for his companions to regroup. Chaos, much like silence, was a thief’s ally. And so, he called upon the Force and once more directed his focus onto the airlock’s electrical and mechanical systems. The previous doors had been relatively simple, their standard systems offering a quick and familiar route, but this time, the pirate’s emergency lock offered a challenge. In his mind’s eye, he wormed his way through the electrical systems, applying pressure in strategic locations, disabling relays, diverting power, but it was a lengthy process, and a mistake could alert the pirates or, worse, cause the systems to jam up and break down.
Thankfully, he knew what he was doing.
He just needed to be quick enough.
This is the main control room of the station. Directly to the left are a series of shelves shoved into the corner that previously held a number of crates and barrels, now a pile of refuse and gore, mixed in with the bodies of three pirates. The remains of heavily damaged B1 Battle Droid lay sparking amongst the debris. To the right is another closed durasteel door, with a sign next to it indicating it contains a washroom. A wide instrument panel stretches across the far wall with a glowing power core beside it, flickering erratically. A large pile of high quality supply crates are stacked in the left corner, each clearing bearing the markings of the Taldryan Republic.
Dail jumped at the sound of the explosion and the dying screams of his compatriots, lying flat on the floor. He looked up at the OSI Director somberly.
“Don’t sound like no escape to me.” He had the look in his eyes of a man who knew that death was imminent.
Mica darted into the room trusting in her shield to protect her from whatever the lightning-tossing Sith lady had missed, and found herself passing two corpses and a pool of chunky salsa on her way to the energy core.
“Someone secure that droid, please,” she called out as she knelt over the shoddily rigged generator and worked her magic. A few pressed buttons and disconnected cables later, the core peacefully ceased both flickering and operating, followed by the station lights which were replaced by the crimson emergency installations.
Hides the blood, procrastinates the clean-up until it’s someone else’s problem!
The airlock finally opened with a hiss and sudden blast of oxygen as the two life support systems mixed. Almost simultaneously with the airlock opening, the overhead lights in the station all shifted into their red emergency mode. The interior of the ship was a mess of stacked crates, empty ration containers, and dirty, greasy clothes strewn about haphazardly. Though there wasn’t much space inside, it was clear that many of the pirates were living inside this ship prior to arriving at the station. Hammocks were hooked into various spots throughout the interior, sometimes overlapping with the walkway down the center. Ahead in the cockpit of the ship, the navigation systems glowed softly, almost beckoning you closer.
It didn’t. Nor would he expect any less of the crew here today. Cole looked toward the doorway. Then to Dail.
Instinct said to kill the straggler. He was a witness and dead weight, there was no point to leaving him alive. Yet, there was a hesitation. The man had complied with everything, they hadn’t done anything illegal to a group of pirates who were using their property and opened with hostilities themselves. There was no damage this one pirate who was now without a crew could do to them. He’d thrown away any loyalty immediately, which was pathetic but he clearly was a low hanging lackey.
The debate existing within his head was annoying. This should be simple. It had always been simple. Yet…
Yet.
Considering tall, dark, and gangly zappy fingers over there was throwing Force Lightning around like she was at a lower level late night Coruscant rave, Snaz decided that it might be a good idea to skedaddle before she decided to turn that upon him.
What was he meant to be doing again? Oh, yeah. Cole Farrow. He was meant to be watching him and yet, he had escaped his sight. Anders would criticise him for that, but then again, that slime sucker didn’t have a funny bone in his body. Therefore, Snaz didn’t give a wampa’s furry backside what he thought.
Still, he had a job to do. As he rounded the corner to find him and escape Aphotis’ wrath, he found Cole, seemingly in deep thought.
“Furrow your brows anymore, and they’ll fall of your face,” Snaz grinned, purposefully ignoring the pirate for the moment. “I knew a guy that had that. Then again, he was Gungan and drunk, so I’m not sure that counts.”
Cole didn’t react visibly but he did groan internally. Sofila would love this guy, by the stars they’d be insufferable. Still, it drew him out of the intense internal debate, and that was nice in its own way.
“It sounds like you were drunk as well.” He replied, measured and careful as Cole ever was. “Did you need something Snaz? I assume the others are working sufficiently.”
Cole was communicating. That’s good. First step achieved.
“What can I say?” Snaz shrugged. “I drink, and I know things. The others? They’re working alright. Like a gang of psychopaths on spice. Figured I’d come over here and lighten the mood. Maybe be the good cop to your bad cop. You look like you got something on your mind. Maybe I can help?”
Snaz acknowledged the pirate for the first time, pursing his lips.
“Shotgun bad cop.”
Cole raised an eyebrow. Something was up. Really, he should tell Snaz to regroup and deal with this. Unfortunately that little sliver of hesitation appreciated the disturbance. Kark he’d gone soft.
“Bad cop?” His gaze landed on Dail again, before back to Snaz. “He’s already provided most of his information, anything that’s useful at least. They have a crate of thermal detonators. This group, the boss and their higher tier buddies hit the military transport that went down last month. So we can reclaim some of our missing remains, though apparently there’s a second location that Dail here doesn’t know the location of. There is also a new pirate hub that’s forming within the system, some Arno figure is involved with that.”
Snaz nodded, listening intently in a way reminiscent of his professor days. “You think that’s all he knows? Is that all you know?”
Snaz asked Dail.
“It’s not. It’s the first layer of information and the most immediately important.”
“Alright. So, what’s got you all twisted up inside?” Snaz immediately asked Cole.
He blinked slowly. Annoyance crossed his emotions though, he didn’t let it show to those who couldn’t glance at them through the Force. Really in sheer spite he wanted to make the decision just to shut Snaz up but that was unnecessary. Impulsive and stupidly so.
“Is this one of those Jedi things?” He asked, avoiding the question entirely for the moment instead.
“No, just a general observation,” Snaz smiled at him.
“Uh huh.” Cole did not smile back.
He exhaled slowly, “There is the question of what to do with our prisoner.”
Snaz rubbed an old hand under his chin. “You could subject him to my new jokes? I’ve got so e good ones I’ve been meaning to try out.”
He allowed himself a small chuckle, bit then his gaze deepened, his age and experiences pouring through him.
“So, the way I see it, there’s only two options. Kill him, or let him live. We can take him prisoner, but that’s basically akin to option one, given you-know-who.”
Snaz did his best impression of Anders’ stern, judgemental face.
Mat slipped inside the ship carefully, reaching out with the Force in search of life aboard. He found there wasn’t much to sense at all. Confident there were no organic lifeforms, he continued inside. He did retrieve his lightsaber from his coat, held it ready though he did not ignite it. It didn’t hurt to be ready in case there were droids or other security measures. Granted, this place didn’t look like much. Layers upon layers of pirate filth. The stench of mold in the air. Grime. Scum. Grease. In fact, Mat was beginning to think he had sorely misread the situation. Maybe the emergency lock was there because these laser brained slugscuffers were paranoid.
Maybe there was something hidden inside a shielded smuggling compartment. He didn’t know this type of ship, so he’d need to be smart. He’d need to look for hints of—
Pop! Pop! Pop!
He was so focused on intricate details that he missed the pile of old rations stacked up on a counter, knocked the whole blasted thing over with his elbow. That’s when things went from bad to worse. These things, they were like ticking time bombs of rot. The first one hit the floor and popped. Then another, and another, each one releasing a sickly puff of mold spores into the air. Oh it stank. It stank so bad.
Mat gasped for air, his free hand scraping his throat while he rubbed his water-leaking eyes with the back of his other hand.
“Shiess! E chu ta, peedunky bantha poodoo!” he cursed, the words a staccato of raspy squeaks as he scrambled away from the mess he had made. “Pfassking skugchuggers!”
The impression was terrible. Cole hated the fact he understood it despite that.
Why was he talking this out with Snaz, one of Anders direct crew. Was this some sort of test? There surely had to be some form of angle.
Though, Cole did at least have to face that he didnt want to kill Dail. Which meant letting him go. Which could be a sign of weakness Snaz would scurry off to Anderson.
Well, kark. Commit.
“Do you have family Dail?”
Plug you there… give this one a twist… delete those lines from the boot sequence… push the button… perform the Holy Rite of Percussive Maintenance.
Mica kicked the generator and thus woke it to a smooth, purring start. The lights switched back from crimson to phosphorous white, and she plugged her Computer Probe into the main console, paired to her datapad.
Select the filters… downgrade temperature, split CO-2 into Carbonmonoxide… redirect flow into the washroom…
With a whisper, the old life support system began its task, a whisper that escalated into a whail and ended with a muffled BANG!
The lights flicked back to crimson as the air, subtly moving until now, lost momentum and grew stale.
Yet somewhere, she still heard electricity arcing.
“Uh, folks? Don’t take breathing for granted,” she whispered into the group’s comnet and dug out a rebreather.
Aphotis raised a brow behind her visor. When Mica spoke up, some monster closet either opened up, or a vital system was about to shut down. Vibronails trailed the corrugated hose attached to her mask as she flicked her tail.
“Well, at least the lights did not go out.”
“I g-got a mom somewhere out there..” Dail’s voice trailed off as confusion, realization, and fresh fear rotated across his face. “And a kid! Two kids actually, there sleemo mother left them with me and I’m all they got.” He was never the best liar.
“Lying to me now isn’t your best plan.” Cole stated. “Where does your mom live? We can drop you off with her if she’s real.”
“Just don’t kill me, please..” He begged, looking around anxiously at the crimson emergency lights. “ I don’t know where my momma is, I ain’t seen her in years. Just drop me anywhere thats far from ya’ll.” A few tears streaked down his cheeks as he spoke. “I told ya’ll everything I know…”
Cole glanced up. The air was turning stale.
“I doubt she’s gone far, try to remember what planet you left her on and we can leave you there to go find her. Restart.” Cole glanced sideways at Snaz, “Do you have a spare rebreather, I only have the one and apparently our team has taken out the filtration systems.”
He slipped his backpack off of his shoulder, thinking out loud for a moment between the other two “If not, we could secure you in the ship so you don’t die before we leave here at least.”
<@837236610684813342>
“Typical…” Snaz rolled his eyes. This was like Anders and Draca’s constant shenanigans getting them into trouble. “I don’t, but I have my ways.”
He winked at Cole, and prepared himself…
Electric-blue inspected each of the charred corpses and the heap of trash that was the B1 droid.
“Taldryan ordinance, opportunists.” The Sith sighed.
A number of blasters were easily clipped onto her waistbelt. The Envoy packs were refilled with thermal detonators after a thorough check for their stability and the medical supplies were able to fill in the gaps of space that was left.
With some of the strength remaining from before, she yanked a flamethrower module off of the B1 Droid. Perhaps it would come in handy when Snaz would make one his terrible jokes again on the way back.
While tall, gangly and murderous went to loot corpses and derelicts, Mica bit down on the rebreather, drew hydrospanner, cutting pliers and torch, and went to work on the consoles in the room. One by one and while keeping the washroom door in the corner of her eye, panels were popped and wires separated, freeing chips and drives to wander into the technician’s backpack.
Gonna sift through it later, but if the station did its job, there’s gonna be a lot of interesting stuff on there.
Who said taking a nap was a bad idea? With renewed vigour, the Force flowed through him in ways it had always done so, right back to his youth under Master Diantha.
When he opened his eyes again, it was like breathing fresh air in a meadow. He turned to Cole.
“Mind if I get a lift?”
<@1382824894877794314>
Cole glanced down, considered for a moment before shaking his head.
“No. Thank you, for asking, but no. Ill get Dail onto our ship and secured, we can work out getting him home later.”
He looked down at the now ex-pirate, “Can you stand?”
He’d gotten carried away by the foolish fantasy of finding pirate treasure aboard the ship and he’d paid the price for it. He’d found nothing but disappointment and… mold. With that over and done with, he could still scavenge the situation. Maybe. Between the curses and the wheezing and the black spots dancing in his vision, Mat shuffled his way over to the cockpit.There he found exactly what he was looking for : the ship’s access terminal. He wasted no time getting to work doing what he did best.
And the best part? Those two-bit pirates made it downright easy for him.
There was no security. He didn’t even need an access code to log onto the captain’s credentials. All their data sat right there ripe for the plucking like Jogan fruits dangling at the end of their branches all plump and juicy. Pluck he did. Mat figured the pirates had to come from somewhere. The chances of such low-lives stumbling onto an abandoned OSI station were low at best and those crates all came from somewhere. Anything that could shed a light on their operations, their comings and goings. Mat already had a few buyers in mind who’d be willing to pay a hefty sum for that information. So he loaded up the flight logs, occasionally looking over his shoulders as he poured over the data in case someone might try to sneak up on him. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a set of coordinates caught his attention. Why? Because they were heavily encrypted, that’s why. Any slicer worth its Kessel salt knew files with such a sophisticated level of encryption was hiding something good, especially when it lay around an otherwise unprotected database.
It would take him a while to decrypt the file, even with his trusted decoder on hand, longer than he could risk there and then. Lady Fear and the rest were likely making short work of the pirates. They’d be heading back for the shuttle sooner or later and they’d be asking questions.
So Mat did the second best thing. He set his lightsaber down atop the terminal, popped open a hidden compartment on the pommel, then retrieved the data crystal concealed within. He hooked it up to the terminal and began the transfer.
Ten percent, twenty-five, seventy-five… and a hundred. Done and done. The encrypted coordinates were his.
He returned the crystal to the saber, popped the cover back in place then slipped the weapon back inside his coat. He was going to go meet up with the others when he had an idea. He turned his attention back to the access terminal.
A few minutes later, the pirates were locked out of their ship. Emergency lock disengaged, connection with the station command room severed. Access codes changed to one Mathik Krynn.
“All hail the captain,” he said, grinning.
Dail nodded, still confused and scared, but slowly pushed himself to his feet.
“Come on,” Cole gestured ahead of him, towards the docking bay. “Before you run out of clean air.”
Thankfully it was a short walk.
Mat raised his commlink to his lips.
“You guys done yet?”
“Unless theres any complaints, yes. Where are you?” Cole spoke back, keeping an eye on Dail’s back as they walked.
Mercy didnt mean he wasnt going to be careful.
“On the pirate’s ship. Good news. No threats over here… Except for the food. The food’s baaaad. Found me a sweet ride, though, bit beat up, but nothing my guy can’t fix up.”
Aphotis plunged her claw into the charred abdomen of a fallen pirate, pulling out the intestine as the blasters around her waistbelt dangled.
“Putting on the finishing touches.”
The entrails were used like cables, hanging up their bodies at the entrance to the listening post. Blood was used to write runes in ur-Kittât. A lingering flavor of fear stuck around, radiated by the souls that were now bound to this insignificant lonely place.
‘A small wound in the Force that festers, always useful in a pinch.’
“Done.”
Mica quickly disconnected the cables from the energy core and dragged it out of the room, keeping it clear of Aphotis’ impromptu body horror gallery, avoiding to gaze at the bloody writings.
A few years ago, back with the Kiffu Guardians, this would’ve made me hurl. Now it’s just annoying. Maybe Jorm is a bad influence.
As he contemplated his next move, Mat ran a systems diagnostic to make sure this old clunker wasn’t going to implode the moment it separated from the station. It wouldn’t sell for more than scraps but these old ships often housed rare and valuable parts. He had contacts who could pick it apart and find these hidden gems, offload them for a nice chunk of creds. Now, whether that was worth getting on the OSI blacklist, he wasn’t convinced. Those encrypted coordinates, though, that was a whole different story. He had an inkling they’d be worth a whole lot of credits in the right hands and he stood to miss out on that pay-off if he let the OSI get their hands on it. A thought dawned on him just as the diagnostics results unfurled across the terminal.
Sublight and hyperdrive systems were a go, nav and comms also. Light support, weapons and shields were in the green. Everything seemed in working order, though some checks came back as an error. He’d need a mechanic to do a more thorough sweep. For all intent and purposes though, the ship was space-worthy.
Turning the ship over to OSI was probably the safest option. He could cut his losses, claim the ship from impound after the investigation, have it picked for parts. While he could try to sell his own copy of the encrypted coordinates—there were plenty of criminals out there who’d perk up at the offer—his biggest payoff would come from OSI itself. He just needed to make sure they couldn’t get their hands on their own copies. He produced a computer spike from his toolbelt and stabbed it into the computer’s dataport. The device activated, rotating inside the port, unlocking new functions on the terminal. He cracked his fingers and set to work, using specialized macros loaded onto his spike to overwrite the ship’s existing data with random patterns, not just corrupting but effectively obliterating the existing data. Crew and flight logs, all of it gone, and that included the original coordinates. This method ensured the data couldn’t be recovered. It did leave a trace, albeit a faint one, and a good slicer might pick up on the patterns. If they were smart, they might figure out something important had been wiped.
Maybe.
By that point, Mat would be long gone.
Then he could hit Cole up on the holo and sell him the coordinates. That’d probably make him angry, rightly so, but he’d get what he was looking for and Mat would get his pay day. Mat couldn’t foresee what’d happen next, but if that OSI fellow had any brains, he’d see his value as an ally.
He raised the comms to his mouth and said, “Alright, I’m all set over here. I’ll drop the ship off on Kasiya. I’ll be seein’ ya. Pass my regards to Mica, Lady Fear and the sleeping lizard.”
With that, he fired up the ship’s engines.
The airlock opened with a heavy clunk as Dail filed into the passenger hold of the transport, Cole close behind. The pilot was standing in the doorway to the cockpit, and he instinctually reached for a concealed blaster pistol when he saw the pirate, but relaxed as he saw the OSI Director leading him in.
“Ready to go? Where’s the rest of the team?” A series of tones in the cockpit pulled his attention for a beat. “Looks like that other ship just released from the station, will we pursue?”
“Not yet. Its been acquired by Mat.” Cole answered with a clipped tone. “The others will be along soon. If they aren’t on board in 15 minutes we’ll leave without them.”
He passed the pilot, getting Dail sat somewhere convenient.
“That’s a bit rude, don'tcha think?”
Snaz arrived on the shuttle, one brow raised, poised on the Human.
“Patience is the key to the soul. Good things come to those who bother to wait, who care enough to afford time. Because time is the most valuable commodity of all.”
He took his seat, and closed his eyes. Very quickly, a light snoring could be heard…
Cole stared for several long seconds. Then looked back to the pilot.
“Disregard the old man.”
The task was done. A derelict stations now serving as a ghostly battery to fuel despair. Perhaps it could even serve as an anchor point for her Garden one day.
The weaponry clipped onto her waist-belt would serve as proof, not that it meant much, but at least it would not fall into the hands of the incompetent. At least that was the intent.
Aphotis slipped back into the transport, half expecting it to have left without her by now.
“How cordial, to wait here. I had the Scythe on standby regardless.” The Sith scoffed as she unclipped the entire load of blasters.
She held up an index finger, “Before you even think it, the cells have been removed.”
Mica secured the generator and seated herself next to it. The adrenaline of the firefight and the touch-and-go dance with the generator was beginning to wear off, but she couldn’t let her guard down in this company, so she soldiered on and reflected on the past hour.
By the standards of the Kiffu Guardians, the job had been a mess. By the standards of the Chyron Legion, it had been a chaos. And by her cousin’s standards, it had been way too slow and quiet.
Mat absconding with the junker of a ship left by the pirates was a shame, but it fell on somebody else’s shoulders, Cole’s.
Aphotis’ comment reached Mica’s ears and piqued her interest. The Scythe, huh? must be a stealth ship. Figures, I doubt anybody sane would leave her through a normal spaceport. Speaking of…
She turned to her pad and sent a quick message.
Still alive and whole. Returning now. Op chaotic, will need time to evaluate. And you should check out what the horror lady has done with the place, reminds me of that book of yours I nearly threw up on. See you later.
“Yes Sir.” The Pilot nodded in response and leaned against the frame of the doorway, waiting patiently as the remaining members of the team filed into the passenger bay. He watched as they each strapped themselves in, eyeing the deactivated power supply suspiciously. He was about to ask Mica if she was sure it was safe, but thought better of it. Honestly, he didn’t want to know. Just like he didn’t want to know what the inside of that station looked like now. Nine lifeforms aboard and only one prisoner captured. As he closed the door leading to the cockpit and settled into his seat, he peeked back through and his eyes fell on Aphotis. Was she looking at him? He hoped not. A chill ran up the full length of his spine, and he was grateful that the closing door broke line of sight. He activated the release, the ship separating from the station with a heavy shudder, then tapped the comm.
“Separation complete. We’re underway.” The transport began to drift away from the dock, leaving the deactivated Listening Station 52-55ln gently twisting in the dark expanse of space.